Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Elara’s POV

At exactly eight o’clock on Monday morning, I arrived at the top floor.

“Miss Elara. Right on time.”

Claire stood at the entrance, exactly as composed as the day she’d interviewed me. Same silver-streaked hair. Same cool, appraising eyes. Not a thread out of place.

I smoothed my dress and tried to look like my stomach wasn’t doing somersaults.

“Good morning, Madam.”

She offered the faintest smile — barely a curve of her lips — and turned on her heel. “Come. I’ll show you your workspace.”

I followed her down a corridor lined with oil paintings of stern-faced wolves in ceremonial armor. The palace was even more overwhelming than it had been during the interview. Every surface gleamed. Every corner smelled of cedar and old paper and something darker — leather, maybe, or iron. Power lived in these walls. You could feel it pressing against your skin.

Claire pushed open a heavy oak door and stepped aside.

The Royal Archives.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves of dark redwood stretched across every wall, packed with leather-bound volumes, rolled scrolls, and sealed document cases. A massive desk sat in the center, polished to a mirror shine. Behind it, mounted on the wall like a declaration, hung the Nightfire family crest — a snarling wolf wreathed in black flame — buffed and gleaming under the chandelier light.

I caught my breath.

“This is your domain now,” Claire said. She ran a finger along the edge of the nearest shelf. Not a speck of dust. “His Majesty’s private records, correspondence, territorial documents, and treaty archives. Everything passes through this room.”

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“It’s a graveyard of failed ambitions,” Claire corrected, but there was warmth underneath her dry tone. “Archivists before you. The last one didn’t last long at all.”

My confidence wobbled. “Didn’t last long?”

“His Majesty is currently away on border affairs. He won’t return until the weekend.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “That gives you a few days to familiarize yourself with the archive arrangements before he arrives. I suggest you use every hour.”

I nodded quickly. “I will.”

“Good.” She gestured to a chair behind the desk. “Sit. Get comfortable. I’ll walk you through the record-keeping methods.”

We spent some time going over the arrangements. Claire was thorough, precise, and patient in a way that made me think she rarely had someone who actually kept up. I took notes. Asked questions. She answered every one without condescension.

By mid-morning, I had settled into a rhythm. The work was familiar — not so different from Lord Harwick’s library, just grander in scale. My hands knew what to do with old paper and faded ink. My mind knew how to sort and cross-reference and find the thread connecting one document to the next.

At ten o’clock, I was deep in a stack of territorial boundary records when the archive door opened.

“Ella!”

Brenna’s voice — hushed but urgent — cut through the quiet. She slipped inside, cheeks flushed, slightly out of breath.

I stood up immediately. “Bren? What are you doing here? Is Valerius—”

“He’s fine. He’s perfect.” She grabbed both my hands. “The academy just sent word. They have an opening for the aptitude interview — today. This morning. If we go now, he can test in before lunch.”

My heart lurched. The academy. The one decent school in the capital that accepted students regardless of bloodline. I’d put Valerius’s name on the waiting list some time ago, never really believing a spot would open.

“Today? Right now?”

“Right now. Ella, this is the only opening. If we miss it—”

“I just started. I can’t just leave on my first day—”

“You can, and you will.” Brenna’s eyes were fierce. “This is for your son.”

She was right. Of course she was right.

I found Claire in the corridor outside. My palms were sweating.

“Madam — I’m sorry to ask this. I know it’s my first day, and I understand if the answer is no. But my son has an interview at the academy this morning, and it’s the only available slot, and—”

Claire raised a hand, stopping my ramble. “How old is your son?”

“Four.”

“And his father?”

I swallowed. The question I always dreaded. “There is no father. Not — not in any official sense.” My voice dropped. “It was a single encounter. Years ago. During a Moon Prayer ceremony. I never learned his name.”

The silence that followed felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Claire studied my face. I braced for judgment — the tightened mouth, the disapproving glance, the subtle shift in tone that told you exactly where you stood in someone’s estimation.

Instead, she said, “You raised a child alone while teaching yourself several languages and working for a man who wouldn’t promote you past his own prejudice.”

I blinked. “I — yes.”

“That isn’t shame, Miss Elara. That’s courage.” She nodded toward the door. “Go. Take the time you need. I’ll hold the fort.”

Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly buckled. “Thank you. Thank you, Madam.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be back by early afternoon.”

I practically ran.

Brenna had Valerius waiting in the academy courtyard. He sat on a stone bench, legs swinging, wearing the little gray vest I’d mended twice. His dark curls were — for once — somewhat tamed, though one stubborn lock sprang free over his forehead.

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